


Simple Tokens

by LorettaFryingPan



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling, Fluff, Gift Giving, M/M, Vignettes, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-02 04:06:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15788640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LorettaFryingPan/pseuds/LorettaFryingPan
Summary: An assortment of sweet, stand-alone Widofjord vignettes from tumblr prompts.





	1. Books and Blankets

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for some widofjord prompts on tumblr a while back, and naturally got some lovely ones just before my hand problems became too much to bear. So now, like a month and a half later, here they are! Hope you enjoy them :)
> 
> These are cross-posted at lorettafryingpan on tumblr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon: "Widofjord prompt, if you feel like it: Snuggling with all the blankets off the beds in front of the fire because Caleb wouldn't put down his new book and they're too far North for him to actually be comfortable. Just fluff and arcane texts."
> 
> Who doesn't love blanket cuddles? Being from the frozen north, Caleb's probably as much a fan of them as I am.

“Aren’t you cold?” That was the first thing Fjord asked as he walked into the inn room. Caleb was seated at the small table hunched over his new book, dressed down to his shirtsleeves. Under normal circumstances Fjord would find the sight distracting, and there was a part of him that admittedly still caught on the lines of Caleb’s shoulders and the curve of his spine beneath threadbare linen, but most of him was focused on how the snow was starting to gather in deep drifts outside and there wasn’t even a fire in the hearth. 

“Hm?” Caleb looked up after another moment. He’d been deeply invested in that book since he brought it back from the store, and probably hadn’t even noticed the creeping chill setting into the room. 

“I said, aren’t you cold?”

Caleb shrugged, putting a slip of cloth between the pages and closing the book. “I grew up in this sort of climate.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He started making a fire in the small fireplace. It was easy enough; no snow had managed to fall in yet so the space was still dry and clean. 

“I’m used to it, I suppose. I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m comfortable, merely accustomed.” Which was a very Caleb thing to say. He was “used to” a lot of things, always seemed accepting whenever he got the short end of the stick. Fjord understood the necessity of taking whatever you could get, but they could get much nicer things now; the very least of these being warmth. 

“Well, I think we can do a sight better than that. Come here,” he said, as he pulled the covers off the bed and sits down with his back against the footboard. He drapes the blankets around his back and held his arms open. 

Caleb took in the display for a moment before grabbing his book and walking over. There was a hint of a smile on his face, and Fjord smiled in reply as Caleb sat down between his legs, leaning back against his chest. Fjord closed his arms, ensconcing the pair of them in warmth. In front of them, the fire crackled merrily. Frumpkin, who had been curled around Caleb’s neck, left to sprawl on the now warming hearthstone.

Fjord had always been a man of simple pleasures, first and foremost, and there was nothing simpler and more pleasing than this. Caleb fit so perfectly in his arms, like he was made to be there. He was rail-thin and bony even after months of regular meals, but that didn’t deter Fjord from hooking his chin over Caleb’s shoulder and cuddling close.

“So what are you reading?” He asked, pressing a kiss to Caleb’s cheek as he opened the book back up.

“Oh, it’s theory, mostly, about planar magic.” 

“Any of it interesting?”

“It’s all interesting,” Caleb replied quickly, sifting through the pages to find his marker. “Most of this book is principles I only learned the broad strokes of, so a deep dive like this has been-“ He paused, tilting his head back to rest on Fjord’s shoulder as he searched for the right phrasing, “-pleasingly edifying.” He pecked a quick kiss on Fjord’s cheek and leaned back over the tome.

“Tell me more about it,” Fjord said. 

“Are you sure?” Caleb asked. “It’s rather dry.”

“It’s interesting to you, so I’d love to hear about it.” Caleb tended towards silence, only speaking when he seemed to feel it was truly necessary. It was a rare occasion that he expounded on a subject that wasn’t immediately relevant to the task at hand, but Fjord always loved to see the light that gleamed in Caleb’s eyes whenever he talked about the arcane, to hear the enthusiasm and fascination in his voice. 

“Alright,” Caleb nodded, and began explaining about the time shifting that could happen between planes, how a single day spent in the Feywild could shrink down to an hour or expand to years in the prime material plane. His voice was a comforting rumble, a gentle roll of heavy consonants and round vowels that resonated in his ribs where they rested up against Fjord’s chest.

They sat like that for some time, in conversation and quiet by turns, as the logs burned down in the fire and the snow piled up outside. Their own little plane, where contentment stretched the hours on and on.


	2. V, S, M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon: "Writing prompt; Fjord and Caleb respectively keeping an eye out for and gathering spell components for each other with no prompting, the group knows they're doing and just wait to see the exchange happen knowing it'll be awkwardly adorable. The exchange happens while everyone is asleep and Yasha is the only one who sees it."
> 
> Material spell components are weird. Also, fun fact: sailors - particularly merchant sailors like Fjord - were really good at handicrafts! Macrame and knot tying are no-brainers, obviously, but sailors were also generally good at sewing to repair their clothes, as well as carving/engraving for crafts like scrimshaw!

“Ach, where has that bead gotten to?”

It was the second time in as many weeks that Caleb was digging through his component pouch, cursing in Zemnian and looking for the small glass bead he needed to summon their shelter for the night.

“I might have one if you need it, Caleb,” Nott offered, but he waved her off.

“No, thank you. Here it is. It always sinks to the farthest corner, it seems.” 

“Well why don’t you look there first?” Jester asked, as she and Caduceus started gathering rations together for dinner.

“Because it doesn’t go to the same corner every time,” Caleb said, before focusing on the notes in his spellbook and preparing their shelter. He could hear Jester reply, but he wasn’t paying attention to the words.

Dinner went on, and Jester continued to poke playfully at the apparent mess of Caleb’s component pouch. He maintained that he knew where everything was when he needed it, and what did it matter if it took a minute longer to make the hut?

Before long, it was time to sleep. The bedrolls were out, and the fire had long since died down to embers. They didn’t technically need to sit watch, but old habits died hard and they all agreed that they were better safe than sorry. Beau and Jester each woke Caleb and Fjord for last watch and they sat together, shoulder to shoulder. After a short while, once their companions had bedded down, Fjord nudged Caleb gently.

“Can I see that little bead you use to cast this spell?” Fjord asked, waving at the invisible dome over their heads.

“Sure,” he replied, passing it over. “Just be careful not to drop it, please.”

He passed it over, and Fjord examined the small false pearl. The lack of light was no problem for Fjord (nor for Caleb now that his stone was completed, which was a blessing) and he examined the small hole for a moment before nodding to himself.

“Yeah, should do it,” Caleb heard him mutter and then the quiet rustle of Fjord rifling through his own bag.

“What are you doing?” Caleb asked, but Fjord shook his head.

“It’s a surprise, just wait,” he replied.

Caleb watched as he pulled a length of fine cord out of his bag and threaded it through the bead. He pulled the ends until they evened out, and once he was satisfied by the length, he began to tie the cord.

They were knots that Caleb didn’t recognize, but Fjord seemed to tie them as easy as breathing. It was hypnotic, the rhythm of loops and over-under-over that morphed into an elegant little fob.

“Here,” Fjord said, handing the little assemblage over. “It’s even got a loop, if you want to tie it to your pouch instead of putting it inside. Should be easier to find, now.”

Caleb ran his fingers over the knots, committing the texture and pattern to memory. “Thank you, it’s perfect,” he replied. “I’m very impressed by your skill.” 

That, of all things, brought a blush to Fjord’s cheeks. “Oh, it’s nothin’, just things I picked up at sea. You find ways to keep busy on long voyages.”

“All the same, Fjord, it is impressive,” Caleb said, leaning close into Fjord’s side, and bringing his free hand around to smooth across Fjord’s back. “Thank you.”

“Oh, I have something for you, as well,” he said, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a thick glass jar. Drifting in the clear brine was one long, ropelike octopus tentacle.

“It’s not nearly so nice as your gift,” he began, “But I recall that spell you cast in that hideout, when we fought the merrow. And I know you need this to cast it, and you lost your last one when—well.” It was still hard to say, even all this time later.

As always, it was easier to just brush past it and keep going. “Finding it was a bit of a pickle, if you’ll pardon the pun, but here. This is for you.” He pressed the jar into Fjord’s hand.

“Well, thank you, Caleb,” Fjord said softly, shifting the jar into his bag. He turned and laid a kiss on Caleb’s hair.

They sat together looking out in silence for the rest of their watch, pressed close together and quietly grateful for the other’s presence.

The next morning, as the hut’s magic faded and the sun rose through the trees, they were greeted by Yasha, hiking through the woods to join up with them. Her return was met with the usual excitement and cheerful catching-up, with Jester and Nott excitedly recounting how their current job was going.

“How fortuitous, that you arrived just in time for breakfast,” Caleb said, the melodic tones of Celestial ringing true despite how tired his voice was. They had taken to conversing in Celestial when they could, and Caleb enjoyed having this little thing that the two of them shared.

“Well, I arrived last night, actually,” Yasha replied, in her own counterpoint melody. “I backtracked a bit and made a solo camp.”

“I didn’t have the heart to interrupt,” Yasha went on, at his wordless look of confusion, “you two are just so cute.”

Well, there was nothing he could say to that. And if Caleb was blushing fit to match his hair, at least Yasha didn’t tease him for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The octopus tentacle is the material component for "Hunger of Hadar"


	3. On Sharing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon: "Widofjord + hand holding for a prompt? Like super shy, probably near the beginning of the relationship sort. Hope you feel better!"
> 
> I wrote this fic three whole times, because the first time was wicked angsty, the second rambled and got way off-topic, and this one, while very short, is the best distillation of what I wanted to get at. It's the shortest of the bunch, but the most concentrated.

Fjord was used to having to share things. From growing up on his own in Port Damali, to living in cramped ships, to the close quarters the Mighty Nein all shared, privacy was a more of a luxury than a hot bath. He didn’t mind it, really, but it was still nice to have a few things that were just his. First among these being his relationship with Caleb.

It wasn’t that he didn’t think the group would be accepting, although Nott might have a few choice words to say to him on behalf of “her boy”. He just didn’t want the attention. Jester was very dear to him, but he wasn’t ready yet to brave the inevitable storm of innuendo, however well-meant it was. And he’d seen how Caleb retreated into himself when they commented on him _shaving_ , by the gods, what would happen if they started on this? This was such a gentle, sweet thing and as much as they were all his friends, he didn’t want their scrutiny while he and Caleb were still figuring each other out.

(There was a smaller, more selfish part of him that simply didn’t want to share. That didn’t want anyone else to be allowed to see Caleb’s crescent-moon smile, and the way his eyes softened as he leaned into Fjord’s side.)

So they stole little moments wherever they found them. And for as shy as he could be, Caleb was very tactile. In those moments it would never be long before Fjord felt Caleb’s hand reaching for his own and twining their fingers together. Caleb’s hands were warm and strong, quick from years of practicing arcane gestures. They were nearly as rough as Fjord’s, a silent testament to the hard lives they’d both lead.

Whether on the road, or in taverns, or in crowded markets, this quick and silent gesture was a touchstone; as caring as it was subtle.

Eventually, they would tell the group. Eventually, they’d sit in taverns with Fjord’s arm around Caleb’s shoulders, or make camp with their bedrolls next to one another. There was no rush. They had each other, and they had this.


	4. Sartorial Matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon: "The age old classic, the Boyfriend Shirt, Widofjord of course, as a prompt"
> 
> Boyfriend Shirt is *chef’s kiss* and I will never get tired of it. This one easily became the longest of the bunch.

It was, at first, an accident. An early-morning scramble to answer the door with some semblance of decency left Fjord struggling to fit a too-small shirt over his shoulders and Caleb answering the door in a tunic with very familiar red stitching on the hem.

It was the innkeeper as it turned out, asking a couple questions about their horses and could they please move their cart to a different part of the stable? Fjord stood behind the door and listened to the conversation although he rather lost the thread of it as his tunic, still unlaced and wide at the neck, slipped off Caleb’s shoulder.

“Ja, ja, we’ll take care of it,” he heard Caleb say as he shut the door. He leaned forward, obviously tired, and once the inkeeper was gone sighed “could this not have waited until we came down for breakfast?”

Fjord smiled, moving behind Caleb and wrapping his arms around Caleb’s waist. “That would be too easy,” he replied, pulling Caleb back against his chest. He pressed one, two, three kisses to the freckles dusted across that pale shoulder. 

“Fjord, come on,” Caleb said with a smile in his voice, one arm leaving Fjord’s grasp to swat ineffectually at the side of his head. “We need to go deal with this.”

“It can wait five minutes,” Fjord replied, nuzzling into the crook of Caleb’s neck.

“Maybe so,” Caleb said, “but I would rather not make a nuisance of ourselves so soon. We are staying at least another day, we shouldn’t push our luck.”

It was a good argument, and Caleb was right, but he didn’t want to go out. This brief window of time, early in the morning, before they had picked up their burdens for the day, was not one Fjord wanted to give up. He could hear the reluctance in Caleb’s voice as well, but he was right. It was better to deal with this now. “Maybe we’ll get a nice early breakfast, then. Beat the rush.”

Caleb turned around in his embrace, and his expression shifted from neutral to confused. “Why aren’t you dressed?” His hands came to rest on Fjord’s collarbone, a simple gesture that never failed to make him smile.

“It seems there was a bit of a mixup.” He said, giving his tunic a meaningful glance. Caleb, ever the sharp one, put the pieces together quickly, and a blush suffused his face.

“I must not have noticed, in the rush-“

“Don’t sweat it,” he said, cutting Caleb off. “Looks better on you, anyway.”

It did, though; he looked softer, relaxed in a way that he seldom was. Fjord leaned in and pressed a kiss to Caleb’s lips.

“All the same, I guess I should give this back to you, shouldn’t I?” Caleb said, with a sudden coyness that never failed to catch Fjord off-guard as he stepped back and grabbed the hem of the tunic.

Hell, the horses could wait.

 

+++

 

The second time was a matter of necessity. Despite their tactics getting better, there were always keen-eyed foes who realized that the wizard was probably the most important target to eliminate in a battle, and managed to get to him.

This time it was a kobold with a spear, and a gash in Caleb’s side that ruined first his shirt and then the flesh below his ribs.

He was still conscious after the fight, seated against a tree, and aware enough to be unbuckling his spellbook holsters so he didn’t bleed on them as the rest of the party ran over. 

“Stop moving, Caleb!” Jester scolded him as she swatted at his hands, trying to tend to the wound. 

“I cannot ruin these books, Jester,” he replied, and Fjord really didn’t like the breathy wheeze that was starting to creep into his voice. He understood Caleb’s worry after seeing the hundreds and hundreds of gold the man spent filling those two volumes, but there had to be a better way.

“I’ll get them off you,” Fjord chimed in, kneeling beside Caleb and pulling the worn leather out of its buckles. Caleb relaxed against him, and pulled his coat open to let Jester get at the injury. She still had some magic left, thankfully, and quickly enough the injury was healed.

“I don’t know if I can mend this,” Jester said, poking at the large bloodstained rip in Caleb’s already patched shirt. “We’ll have to get you some new clothes tomorrow when the shops open.” 

Caleb waved it off, and Fjord helped him stand so they could pick their way back to town. 

Back in the inn room, Caleb was looking over the damage with a critical eye.

“I’ll wash it and sew it up. It shouldn’t be too difficult,” Caleb said, examining the tear. “I’ve gotten worse bloodstains out before.”

“ _That’s_ a thing to say,” Fjord said, not quite sure what to make of the assertion. “Either way, I don’t think Jester is going to let this one go, you might not have a choice.”

Caleb shrugged. “Just because I get a new shirt doesn’t mean I have to throw out this one.”

“Yeah, but that still doesn’t mean you should wear it right now,” Fjord opened his own pack as he spoke, pulling one of his spares out and holding it out to Caleb. “Here.”

Caleb took the shirt, looking at it like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

“It’ll be much more pleasant to sleep in,” Fjord said, more to fill the quiet than anything. It wasn’t exactly pleasant to look at the bloody slash and think of the wound that was only recently beneath it. Whether or not it would make for a comfortable sleeping experience was secondary to his reasoning.

If Caleb could read that in his expression, he didn’t call it out.

“Thank you,” he said instead, turning around to pull his shirt off. They both changed quickly, the strain of the day settling into their bones.

The next morning, Fjord woke up to Caleb sitting up in bed reading. It was a common enough sight, but every so often his free hand would come up to rub and pull at the collar of his shirt, testing the stitching between his fingers and the feel of the fabric against his jaw.

“Comfy?” He asked. Caleb startled slightly, seemingly realizing what he was doing.

“Ah. Yes. It smells like you,” he said simply, and Fjord could see the slightest blush warming his cheeks. He probably hadn’t meant to say that last bit, but there it was. 

Fjord raised himself up on one elbow and pressed a kiss to Caleb’s cheek. “Tell you what,” he said, “If I do the shopping, will you wear a new shirt?”

Caleb just blushed deeper and rolled his eyes.

 

+++

 

After that, it was plain thievery. Caleb had gone out early in the morning with Beau, a quick run to the library to check a reference. Fjord had roused enough to give him a wave, and when he woke up again Caleb was sitting at the small table scratching rapidly at his notes.

He looked handsome, almost rakish, in slim pants and Fjord’s shirt, which nearly billowed on his frame. His freshly-washed hair shone like burnished copper where the watery morning light hit it.

“You keep taking a fella’s clothes, he might get ideas,” Fjord said softly, his face half in the pillow.

“And what sort of ideas might those be?” Caleb asked, and even though he didn’t look up from his work Fjord could see the smile curving across his face.

 _That you’re comfortable_ , Fjord wanted to say. _That you feel safe enough to take these liberties_.

“You’re sharp,” he said instead, ‘I’m sure you’ll piece it together.”

“It’s very soft,” Caleb said, worrying the sleeve hem. “And it is yours.”

They were both skilled at saying things with different words, it seemed.

“I’ll be wanting that back, don’t forget,” Fjord said, winking to lighten the mood.

“You’ve got another,” Caleb waved dismissively at Fjord’s pack.

“You planning on wearing that all day?” He asked. Caleb shrugged, already focusing back on his work.

Well, Fjord mused, watching Caleb work as the light got brighter in the room, it wasn’t as though he really minded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for now! I might add more vignettes in the future, but as far as I know, that's it! Thank you for reading, drop a comment if you like it! <3 You can find me on tumblr at lorettafryingpan or djinn-and-djuice if you want to chat about these sweethearts.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! These were all very fun to write. Do let me know what you think!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at lorettafryingpan or at my writing blog, djinn-and-djuice. :D


End file.
